October 23, 2006

Never do swaps with us. We promise the world, and though we mean it when we say it, Poppalina can be unforgivably tardy when it comes to delivery.

The Lovely Sandra Monat of Herzenart has been waiting patiently for this item for several months. Her swap to Mym was delivered from Germany within minutes.

Ours is just getting off today.

Such a patient woman, she is.

The good news is that we always get there in the end.

And hands up who's had the gastro bug that is sweeping Melbourne this month, filling the hospitals to capacity and almost bringing the city to a standstill (both hands showing over here). It took us out for 5 days, and although I had plenty of time on my hands as a result (I am very diligent about quarantining for contagious illnesses), I couldn't get my act together to do anything much, except watch movies, sleep and eat tinned spaghetti on toast. Times like that I wish I still had a Mum.

I did manage to spin a couple of balls of cashmere and silk, which look strange, but feel fabulous, and am working up a little bear for Craft Victoria.

And just in case the cynics out there didn't believe my story about the man-eating burrs in Nymagee, I unfolded my camping rug for cleaning today, and decided a photo for posterity was in order.

That should keep me busy for the rest of the afternoon.

Will be singing with Sarah and Jackie Marshall this Sunday evening at the Retreat Hotel in Sydney Road, Brunswick, between, I think, 6 and 7pm, for anyone who might be interested. The Retreat is next door to the Mechanics Institute, which is on the corner of Sydney and Glenlyon Roads.

October 11, 2006

Sorry for my late appearance, but the drive home took a little recovering from, given that I drove most of it. The Lovely Partner in Crime, Sarah Carroll, saw fit to debrief at the local pub after the festival ended. Details are hazy, but I do know that it involved a jukebox karaoke performance of Sailor's Glass of Champagne, four drunken Irishmen, and very large quantities of honey.

She was a little the worse for wear the next day.

I, on the other hand, spent a quiet night with the sleeping children under the solid roof of an old farmhouse, listening to the howling wind, watching ghosts come through the back door, and trying to work out how to get the water to flow through the pipes of this

so that I could have a hot shower after 3 days of sitting, sleeping, singing and eating red dust.

I never did work it out, but the stove provided me with a lovely hearth fire to warm my feet on, and I settled for a surprisingly enjoyable hot sink wash. After so many days, what joy there is to be found in a hot flannel.

Nymagee has no water left. Hasn't had for a long time now. Once upon a time, the festival was held at Lake Nymagee. These days they don't even mention the lake, which looks like this:

Anyone in any doubt that Australia is in a state of advanced drought, take a stroll up the Kidman Way, and think again.

All water is brought from hundreds of kms away. We had a 20 litre tank between 4 of us to last 4 days, so it gives you a whole new perspective on water consumption. Amazing how little water you can use if you really think about it. It's all a question of respect. I was so shocked when I arrived home and turned on the taps. Not only did it gush water, but it gushed hot water, about as much in 30 seconds as I had used all weekend. I may never recover.

Anyway, we had a great time. They're not kidding about the outback bit. Anyone considering this experience is cautioned to take strong boots and maximum weight pants; I'd suggest leather. The gorse is thigh high and feral beyond description. The burrs rise at night and walk the earth, getting in your pants, your feet, your sleeping bag, breaking into 100 tiny pieces as they hit the skin, and are almost impossible to remove (so tweezers are advised also).

It's scorching hot in the day, and freezing at night (heavy coats, and cowboy hats also essential). The dust is awesome (not a word I use lightly), and blows up without warning in red willy willys that fill crevices in your body you didn't even know you had.

We all melted down at some point, because, unlike you guys, we didn't have the benefit of prior warning and were badly underprepared in certain respects. (ie. not enough warm clothes, wrong shoes, not enough milk, my kingdom for a dust cover), but we all got over it, and settled in for a weekend of dusty, happy, friendly, music-loving country.

And, in retrospect, we had a ball. Especially the kids, who thought being that dirty was totally cool anyway.

Anyone wanting the slide night experience can find it here. No kid shots, you know I'm superstitious about that, but it gives you the lowdown. I'll post music shots as I get hold of them, there were people there who are much better at photographing bands than I. I tend to just listen. But if you want pictures of ancient fridges, I'm your man.

Just a couple of quick highlights before I sign off and go back to trying to turn red linen back to white. They're going to need soaking for a week, I think.

The CWA food shed (Mym called them the 'Kwa people') God bless them, they did this thing with sausages and gravy and bread that made me want to weep with gratitude. I'm seriously considering joining, if they'll have me.

and the 1st prize in the raffle (Australians just love raffles)

For those of you outside Australia, Slim Dusty (RIP) is a legend in Australian country music, roughly equal to that of Elvis. This coffee table had been hand crafted by one of the local women, whom I had the pleasure of meeting. 9 coats of lacquer, she told me, and she can't do it anymore, what with the lung cancer and all, and I had no reason to doubt her. There'd be nothing like it anywhere in the country, it's a one off. I wanted this table very badly indeed.

And finally, especially for the ladies at hml,, Kapinny, and Sherridan, I met the Australian Air Guitar Champion, who did a performance with the now legendary Lonely Horse Band, involving stage diving 15 feet into thin air. Darren from Dubbo is Poetry in Motion, and also has excellent fashion sense.

October 04, 2006

But the intense and indepth personal examination I have just experienced at Blogthings has left me in such an advanced state of Personal Revelation that I feel, well....

Born Again.

You Are 90% Psychic

You are so very psychic.But you already predicted that, didn't you?You have "the gift" - and you use it daily to connect with others.You're very tapped into the world around you...Just make sure to use your powers for good!

You represent the ultimate in truth and purity.Insightful and illuminating, you provide guidance for others.You also demonstrate unselfish, unconditional love.You posses many spiritual gifts, including the ability to heal.

Your fortune:

Your future is looking brighter by the day.The near future will be a time of both hope and healing.Luck is about to come your way, perhaps the best luck you have ever seen.Life is about to get a lot easier and much better!

You're a top cook, but you weren't born that way. It's taken a lot of practice, a lot of experimenting, and a lot of learning.It's likely that you have what it takes to be a top chef, should you have the desire...

You are a kind, sensitive, and giving person.And all your good deeds will pay off - if they haven't already.But you're not so concerned with what you get in return anyway.You have an innate caring nature - and nothing can change that!

Huge and hot, Jupiter is a quickly turning planet with short days and intense gravity.

You are perfect to rule Jupiter, because you are both dominant and kind.You have great strength and confidence, but you never abuse your power.

You are always right. Even if you make mistakes, you compensate for them... before anyone knows it.Headstrong and ambitious, you always have a goal in mind. You are optimistic and believe thing things will always work out.

You are more than a little eccentric, and you're apt to keep very unusual habits.Whether you're a nightowl, living in a commune, or taking a vow of silence - you like to experiment with your lifestyle.Expressing your individuality is important to you, and you often lie awake in bed thinking about the world and your place in it.You enjoy staying home, but that doesn't mean you're a hermit. You also appreciate quality time with family and close friends.

"Is something burning in here? Oh, it's just me."You're a total nutball who will do anything for attention.The first to take a dare, you'll pull almost any stunt.You're one weird looking creature, but your chickens don't mind!

October 02, 2006

Bugger all craft this week, so I bring you another one from the stash.

It's a big baby quilt, I admit, and almost fits a single bed, which was the idea.

I had a lot of spare cotton left over from crocheting several gazillion sunhats. I had made a sunhat for Mym, covered in Irish roses, and then every man and his dog wanted one. I crocheted sunhats every night for a year, until the following Spring, some thieving bastard started having them made in Bali and importing them for less than it cost me to buy the materials.

Now you can buy them in petrol stations and $2 shops.

So ended that fashion venture.

But I was the first. I swear it.

Anyway, back to the quilt.

The whole thing:

And the details:

The pattern, which I call a double shell stich, set up over two rows. Very easy, really:

Edged with reinforced double crochet (or single crochet, if you're in the US), followed by an equally reinforced link stitch, ( I'm a girl who favours sturdy), ending with a stack of tassels, that seemed to take forever, but used up all the excess yarn :

and a super close - up, for anybody wanting to follow the pattern:

And last, but not least, the lining, made from a lovely old Sheridan sheet, sent over from my Godmother, who spilled wax on it, but couldn't bear to throw it away, and knew I would do something with it. Which I did:

It's really very heavy, when you add it all up, I'm glad I made it so sturdy, or the weight would have pulled it to pieces in no time. It's lovely to sleep under, and lives on my bed, of course, I can't trust Mym not to spill Milo on it yet. She can have it when she's grown up. 'For your Glory Box, darling', as my Mum would have said, facetious woman that she was. Translates to 'you can tear it from my cold, dead hands'.